


orange you glad i stole your heart?

by nauticalleeds (metamorphosis)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, I'm so sorry, Like very minor, M/M, Neighbours AU, SO MUCH FLUFF, also a lot of fruit puns, also harry bakes a lot of pastries and wins louis' heart aw, and also there is minor ziam, and niall is a cock block, and zayn is louis' best friend who is a little shit, blame it all on harry, but the best little shit, sorry there is no smut this time, there's a zouis friendship & a narry friendship in here ha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:45:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metamorphosis/pseuds/nauticalleeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>There are only four left.</i><br/><i>Louis does the math in his head. Last week, he only picked two, and there had seemed to be a decent amount left. Or had he been hallucinating? He isn’t sure.</i><br/><i>Now that he thinks about it, the tree </i>has<i> been lacking recently. He recalls a particular tangerine that was difficult to reach, a bit on the higher side. </i>Tall Tangerine Terrence,<i> he had secretly dubbed it in his head. But now, even Tall Tangerine Terrence is gone. </i></p><p>Or, Louis has an unknown neighbour who keeps stealing his tangerines. He didn't expect for his heart to be stolen, too.</p><p>For the prompt: "louis notices his tangerine tree becoming bare, which is strange bc he never picks more than he needs. one day he sees his neighbor's arm from over the fence, reaching up to pick off his tree. but he's gone inside before louis can come out. finally one day, louis sprints out and catches him in the act. his neighbor, harry, is a little scared but louis is ok about it, tells him to ask. they end up having a system where harry bakes him things for tangerines."</p>
            </blockquote>





	orange you glad i stole your heart?

**Author's Note:**

> for the lovely [brendan](http://louisloveclub.tumblr.com) who has been waiting so long for me to get my shit together & write this for you. if you did not nudge me last night, i would not be confident enough to post this. but i love you & i'm excited to finally give it to you!  
> thank you SO much to my lovely betas [anna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_anna/pseuds/broken_anna), [nadine](http://givenchyloueh.tumblr.com) & [megan](http://paynefulperiods.tumblr.com). i had three for this short fic because it's my first fic up & i am NERVOUS.  
> but i love you all. thank you!
> 
> CHECK OUT THE AMAZING ART BRENDAN DREW FOR THIS FIC. [(x)](http://spacetwink.tumblr.com/post/132712767896/looking-for-something-louis-pipes-up-and-what) [(x)](http://nauticalleeds.tumblr.com/post/135152322780/after-that-horrendous-encounter-louis-is-a-bit) [(x)](http://nauticalleeds.tumblr.com/post/132848668650/tangerine-fic-is-coming-very-soon-i-know-i-said)  
> 

The whole ordeal happens slowly.

Louis isn’t a citrus type of person. He’d much rather indulge in cereal – it’s simple, it’s convenient, it’s delicious. But his sister Phoebe loves tangerines, and it just so happens that Louis has a tangerine tree in his new backyard. It’s a cute little addition, with the tree situated right next to the fence that divides the property between him and his neighbour’s house. Of course, the tangerine tree came with the house – Louis wouldn’t know how to plant one if his life depended on it. So for his sister’s sake, Louis starts picking them off the tree to take to her every weekend. It’s worth it, the way his sister’s face lights up whenever he arrives with a bag of tangerines, and it becomes a routine.

The thing is, Louis’ never been one to check on things frequently. He’s shit at replying to texts, terrible at turning the stove off, and doesn’t remember to take his food out of the microwave. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice it at first, the amount of tangerines disappearing at a faster rate than usual – until one day, Louis ambles into his yard to find that the majority of the orange fruit is already gone.

\---

There are only four left.

Louis does the math in his head. Last week, he only picked two, and there had seemed to be a decent amount left. Or had he been hallucinating? He isn’t sure.

Now that he thinks about it, the tree _has_ been lacking recently. He recalls a particular tangerine that was difficult to reach, a bit on the higher side. _Tall Tangerine Terrence,_ he had secretly dubbed it in his head. But now, even Tall Tangerine Terrence is gone.

Maybe it’s the birds. Birds are notorious for picking at fruit trees, often knocking the fruit to the ground. Louis scans the ground meticulously for a few moments. No tangerines.

“What the fuck?” Louis mutters, and he’s offended, because is someone _stealing_ from him? Even if they’re just dumb tangerines, stealing is still stealing, and no one steals from under Louis’ nose and gets away with it. No one.

If it weren’t birds, who could it be? Cats? Mice? Children?

 _Children._ Aha! Louis is sure of it. It’s probably the brat next door who always snubs Louis when he sees him. Mickey, that’s his name. It’s probably a moral crime to hate children, but hey, Mickey broke his flowerpot recently and never apologized, that little shit. And okay, maybe it was a flowerpot the former house owner had also left behind, and maybe Louis had never used it once in his life, but it was still his. And so are these tangerines.

Louis returns to his house in a determined huff. The next time the tangerine thief strikes into action, they won’t get away with it. Louis is prepared.

\---

For the next week, Louis observes the tree from his window. Even his friends are beginning to call him out on it.

“You still watching out for that orange thief, mate?” Zayn asks when he comes over one night for FIFA.

Louis is instantly offended. “Fuck you. They’re tangerines,” he tells him, receiving an eye roll in response.

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s an immense difference, Zayn,” Louis says, although he’s not really sure if that’s true. “But of course I’m still watching out for him. There’s a citrus thief on the loose. He's terrorizing the whole of humanity."

Zayn rolls his eyes before returning to his controller. “You’ve been obsessively staring out that window. You might as well start Tangerine Watch.”

Louis stares blankly at him.

“You know, like dog watch in naval terminology.”

“I know what dog watch is,” Louis lies. “And I’m not obsessed. I’m just doing it for Terrence’s sake. For justice. For America.”

“We live in England. And who the fuck is Terrence?”

Louis ignores his question. “Why do you always have to rain on my parade, Zayn?”

\---

Louis has grown accustomed to watching out for his tangerines, opting to sit in areas where the tree is visible in his sight. He figures that when it comes to nabbing a citrus thief, strategy and efficiency is key. So right now, Louis is sat in the kitchen with his phone, keeping an eye out for Tangerine Thief.

However, Louis is stuck on this particular level of Angry Birds. He never used to like Angry Birds, but Liam got him hooked on it recently, and now he’s playing the game every damn moment of the day. But this level is really trumping him, and he’s distracted enough that he almost doesn’t notice the swift movement near the tangerine tree.

It’s a good thing that Louis has quick reflexes. He races out the door with a yelp, spying an arm from behind the fence reaching out for a tangerine. _Gotcha._ Unfortunately, the tree’s leaves obstruct most of Louis’ view of the arm, and it's not easy to tell if it belongs to a child or an adult.

He yells anyway.

“Hey!” Louis shouts, running toward the tree. Approaching the culprit, he gets a closer look at the arm, and... are those _tattoos?_ “Those are my tangerines!”

However, Louis instinctive act serves to be a bad idea. Immediately, the hand shrinks back before disappearing out of sight.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me," Louis says, stomping up to the fence. The fence is at a height that is right up to the top of Louis' head, which only emphasizes the fact that he's not as tall as he'd like to be, and only fuels his anger.

Standing up on his tiptoes, he peers over the fence. Not a person is in sight, no trace of anyone is left behind. Louis is furious. Time to confront the thief himself.

Marching next door, Louis raps on the door repeatedly until the door opens. A blond-haired man stands at the doorway, a blank expression on his face. That bastard. "Um. Hello?"

"Hi," Louis says, impatient. "Why do you keep stealing my fruit?"

The man's eyebrows furrow into a look of confusion. "What? What are you talking about?" he says, and how dare he pretend to be clueless? Louis opens his mouth again, ready to retaliate, until he spots the man’s arms.

They're tattoo-free. Not a smear of ink in sight.

Louis snaps his mouth shut, feeling like an idiot. "Oh. Um. Nothing."

The man glances at Louis quizzically. "Alright, mate. Has someone been taking your, uh, fruit, lately?" he asks, and it's only now that Louis realizes how crazed he must have seemed, rushing to this person's house in a frenzy over his stolen tangerines.

"I have a fruit tree," Louis rushes out, trying to present himself in a somewhat normal way. "And it's just that the fruit have been disappearing lately, and I thought you were taking it, but..." Louis scratches his head self-consciously, aware of how strange this all is. God. He probably sounds like a frenzied old man. "But it's all a misunderstanding. So don't worry about it."

Thankfully, the man laughs, his eyes crinkling. "That's hilarious. I'm Niall, by the way."

Relieved at Niall's unfazed reaction, Louis holds out his hand. "Louis. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Niall says, accepting the handshake. "Well, I hope you find your fruit robber. Say,” he continues, peering at Louis. “I've never seen you in this neighbourhood before."

"Yeah,” Louis responds, shrugging. “Just moved in a few weeks ago."

"Ah," Niall says, nodding. "Well, welcome to the neighbourhood! You're welcome to stop by anytime. My housemate makes really great pies. Meringue pies, I tell ya! Legendary."

Louis nods. “Pies sound ace. Cheers," he says, turning back to his house, and Niall bids him farewell before shutting the door.

Well, that was a bust. At least Louis finally got to meet his neighbour, anyway – Niall seems like a nice lad to live next to. Louis can't help but feel a bit sorry for him as well, though. He's got a random stranger climbing into his backyard to pick fruit off Louis' tree. Louis should have probably alerted him.

Oh, well. Now that he's been caught in the act, Tangerine Thief probably won't come back for more. At least that's reassuring.

\---

It happens three days later.

Louis had called off Tangerine Watch the moment he left Niall's, sure that from then on, his fruit would remain intact. No one would be stupid enough to attempt to rob the tree again.

He should have known.

It's not like he was paying attention, actually. He was just enjoying some summer weather, doing summer things, such as lying down while watching Chad Michael Murray on his laptop screen. Who says that watching One Tree Hill in his backyard isn’t summer-y? If it were winter, he’d be watching One Tree Hill in his bedroom, so. And he’s even got his shirt off, too. Definitely summer-y.

He had opted for the shade, sprawled out next to his fence under the tangerine tree. Louis' earbuds were in, and he was fully immersed in an emotional Peyton and Lucas scene on his screen. Peyton was LA bound, with Lucas reassuring her how she’d always be in his heart, and fuck, if that isn’t the most romantic thing ever, Louis doesn’t know what is. He’s actually on the verge of manly tears. That is, until he hears a rustle from above his head, and he looks up.

Slowly, a head pokes out from beneath the fence, nervously casting a glance toward Louis’ house. Louis can’t see much from this angle, but he can make out long curls, and a jaw structure that looks too defined to belong to a child who breaks flower pots. Holding his breath in anticipation, Louis waits until the stranger’s arm reaches out for Louis’ tree, and he nearly lets out a squeak.

Tattoos. A whole lot of them, actually. And shit, that is a nice, defined arm.

“Looking for something?” Louis pipes up, and what he receives from the other side is a startled, manly squeal before the stranger’s body is lurched backward with a loud thud. “Fuck!”

Louis scrambles to his feet, rushing over to his neighbour’s yard. He's ready. He’s ready to defend his fucking tree. He's ready to beat the shit of out this lad who has been stealing his fruit for the past few weeks. He’s ready to give him all that he deserves. He’s ready…

He’s _not._

Rounding the fence, Louis finds a tall man on the other side, his shirt askew and his face tinted red. And… his eyes. They’re greener than any other emerald Louis’ mom owns, and his lips. _Shit._ Cherry pink.

He’s breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Oops,” the man blurts out, his cheeks blooming a shade darker once he sees Louis’ shirtless state. _Beautiful._

“Hi,” Louis stutters, his mind having gone completely blank. His tangerine thief is a grown man. His tangerine thief is hot.

His _Tangerine Thief._ Right.

“Um,” Louis starts. _Very smooth._ Attempting to regain his eloquence of speech, he clears his throat and tries again. “So, Tangerine Thief. Care to explain?”

Tangerine Thief gets to his feet clumsily, his long limbs preventing his rise to be a more graceful one. He’s a whole head taller than Louis. _God._

The man fish mouths. "Er."

Right. It's clear that Louis will have to squeeze this out of him.

"You've been stealing my fruit," Louis states, trying to look threatening. And if he's trying to position his face at an angle that he knows he looks best in, well, that's entirely unrelated.

Tangerine Thief sighs. "Sorry," he says, his voice a slow, deep drawl. "I really don't mean to... No, really! I'm serious. I don't usually steal." Tangerine Thief shuffles his feet, looking at Louis. "I really don't. It's just that, like, the former neighbour, Mrs. Darcy," he says, gesturing at Louis' house, and oh yes, Mrs. Darcy. Louis had met her before buying the house. She was a very nice woman, grey hair and all smiles. Thinking of it now, Louis recalls receiving a couple tangerines that day.

"Mrs. Darcy kind of let me... have the tree?” Tangerine Thief says. “Like, she wasn't one for gardening and such, so I offered to take care of her yard. And with the yard came the tangerine tree, so she just let me have all the tangerines I want."

Louis blinks. "Oh."

"I swear I didn't intend to come back to take your tangerines," the man rushes, eyebrows set in a concerned line. "After the other day when you came out, I figured that the tree wasn't, like, available to me anymore. But like," he continues, looking sheepish, "I really needed just one more tangerine for my pie, and the store isn't open today. I checked. So, yeah. I'm really sorry."

At this point, Louis has become too preoccupied at how his tangerine thief has turned into a beautiful shade of dark pink than to remember to be offended over his fruit.

"Well then, I guess that’s a legitimate reason. Can’t leave your pie unfinished,” Louis says, and the boy looks relieved. “Apology accepted, Tangerine Thief.”

"Harry, actually," Tangerine Thief supplies, dimpling. "But hey, I'll buy you another tangerine,” he insists. "I'll buy you a whole box."

Harry's genuine sincerity over stolen citrus fruits turns Louis into a pile of mush. He's hopelessly endeared.

Tapping his foot, Louis hums, pretending to consider his proposition. "Tell you what, Curly. You can take all the damn tangerines you want," he says, and Harry's eyes widen in protest, "as long as you let me have a slice of your pie."

"Well," Harry says, a playful smile appearing on his lips. "I guess that works. I hope you don't object to meringue pie?"

"Meringue..." Louis trails off, a light bulb suddenly going off in his head. "Meringue? You don't happen to be Niall's housemate, do you? The one who bakes pies?"

Harry nods. "That would be me."

Ah. Not a stranger in Niall’s backyard, after all. "Niall mentioned you, actually," Louis tells him. "Invited me over for pie, too.”

"Niall," Harry repeats, tipping his head to the side. "You met Niall and I wasn't there? When?"

“The day I yelled at you for climbing my tree. I went over to your house and found Niall instead."

“Oh right,” Harry says sheepishly. “I ran away and hid."

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

"Maybe," Harry shrugs, a bashful smile on his face. “Anyway, I guess I'll be seeing you for pie then…?" Harry trails off. It’s only now that Louis realizes that he hasn’t even given his name.

“Louis. And you will,” Louis says, and shit, does he sound too eager? “I mean, I do have to see where my tangerines are going,” he says quickly. Nevertheless, he’s got a hot neighbour inviting him over for pie. Louis is so down.

“You won’t be disappointed, Louis,” Harry says excitedly. “I make a mean tangerine meringue pie.”

“Say,” Louis wonders. “Are tangerines and oranges the same thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “They’re not. Although they’re from the same species, they’re very different.”

Louis is skeptical. He’s pretty sure that any orange citrus fruits are pretty damn similar. “They are?”

“They are,” Harry says, nodding very seriously. “Tangerines are smaller, and their acidity levels are lower, so they’re sweeter than oranges. Oranges have a pH of about two point four to three. And tangerines originate from Morocco.”

Louis stares. “Did you Wikipedia this shit before you started to eat tangerines or something?”

Harry laughs, nodding proudly. “I did, actually. Orange you glad?"

“Oh no," Louis groans, fighting to hide a smile. "That was terrible."

Harry's grin grows wider. "What are you talking about? My fruit puns are grape."

"Can't say I'm impressed, Harold," Louis says, faking a yawn. "Those are pretty weak fruit puns."

"Hey," Harry drawls out. "My puns are incom-pear-able."

"Well," Louis says, nodding at him. "I guess you can take that one."

Harry ducks his head with a smile, as if Louis’ slight approval makes all the difference. “Thanks,” he says. “And thanks for the tangerines.”

“Anytime,” Louis says, realizing that his weekly tangerine deliveries to Phoebe will probably have to cease.

Oh well, she’ll survive. Louis' got an apple tree in his yard too.

\---

Once Louis learns he’s got a hot neighbour, he starts eating tangerines and other fruit more often. He’s also tried doing a few more butt-shaping exercises too. And Louis’ not that shallow, it’s not only because Harry’s hot, but… he’s nice, too. He’s hot _and n_ ice. And well, to be honest, that isn’t something Louis is used to when it comes to guys.

Sadly, all of his efforts seem to be in vain, since Louis hasn’t even been able to talk to Harry as often as he would like to.

True to his word, Harry delivered Louis the pie after the day they met. Louis had answered the door to a bashful Harry holding a delightful meringue pie in his hands, eyes sparkling expectantly. The pie didn’t disappoint. It was so delicious that Louis accidentally let out a moan at the first bite while Harry was in the middle of telling him about the recipe. Harry ended up stumbling over whatever he was saying.

Unfortunately, Niall had barged into Louis’ house shortly after that. It seemed that he’d realized there was no intention for him to partake in Harry’s new pie, as he previously always had. Upon this interruption, Harry had to leave to console an upset Niall, and Louis was left in his house alone again, with no further opportunity to talk to Harry.

They had come across another encounter five days later, when Louis, out of sheer desperation to see the curly-haired boy, brought his last tangerine over to Harry’s house. Harry had squealed in delight – _“Your last tangerine? For me?”_ until a crash came from the kitchen and Harry had to frantically excuse himself to go yell at his cat. So sadly, even that was cut short. (It was only after that Louis realized that with an empty tangerine tree, Harry would no longer have any reason to even approach Louis’ yard anymore. Great.)

Of course, there had been greetings from afar, such as when Harry had waved from his window as Louis returned from the shops. But other than that, it's been five days. Five days without even holding a proper conversation with Harry.

But not anymore. Today is the weekend. Today Louis doesn't have work, and today, he's going to talk to Harry. He's going to converse with him, and he’s prepared. He has even placed a small footstool next to the fence, because tiptoeing is too much of a strenuous exercise.

Louis waits until he’s absolutely sure that Harry is home. Afternoon rolls around, and once he hears a loud voice belting out Aretha Franklin from the kitchen window next door, he grabs his stuff and rushes out into his backyard.

Dragging a towel onto his lawn, Louis parks himself within visible sight of Harry's kitchen window. He stretches out with his laptop, plugging into his earphones and pressing play to yet another episode of One Tree Hill. Peeking up at Harry's window, he spies the curly-headed boy at his table sipping tea. Go time.

For the next few minutes, Louis makes sure to capture Harry's attention. He arranges himself in a position that makes his butt look good and laughs extra loud at whatever Nathan is saying. Sure enough, Harry ambles out into his own yard within five minutes. Success.

"Louis!" Harry calls. Louis can see him waving from his peripheral vision. Louis acts like he doesn’t hear him, pretends to be very invested in whatever Brooke is saying on the screen. Yes, Brooke. Continue whining about your life.

Harry spends a few more seconds trying to catch Louis' attention before Louis turns his head, taking his earphones out. "Harry," he says, feigning surprise. They didn't cast him in his school play for nothing.

"Hey," Harry smiles, stepping up to the fence. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, you know," Louis says, waving at his laptop from his position on the ground. "Watching a show."

"Cool! What show?"

"Um." Louis glances at Peyton and Lucas on his screen, instantly regretting how ill-planned this all was. What if Harry judges him for watching One Tree Hill? What man still watches One Tree Hill?

Harry cranes his neck, peering at the screen. "Is that One Tree Hill? Damn. Chad Michael Murray is fit."

Louis relaxes, relieved that one, Harry shares his taste in TV shows, and two, he is definitely interested in men. "Right?" Louis agrees. He loves Chad.

Harry nods. “Definitely.”

“So, Harry," Louis teases. "Are you here to take some more of my oranges?"

“Well, I actually just came to talk to you,” Harry says, and if Louis' insides could squeal, they would. “But if that’s all you take me for…”

“I don’t know, mate,” Louis says, pretending to consider. “You could have ulterior motives. You could just be pretending to be my friend to gain citrus benefits.”

“‘Citrus benefits’,” Harry muses. “That would be a great name for a body product brand.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Louis says, sticking his nose up haughtily. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Harry laughs, resting his elbows on the fence. “But really. I’m using this lime-scented shampoo right now, and the name brand is rather lame. ‘Lime Time’, it’s called.”

Lime-scented shampoo. Huh. “‘Lime Time’,” Louis repeats blankly.

“‘Lime Time’,” Harry says. “But it smells wonderful! Would you like to take a sniff?”

Louis freezes. “A sniff?” he asks, although he’s quite sure what Harry is implying.

“A sniff of my hair,” Harry confirms, waving him over, and Louis is stuck.

An invitation for Louis to smell Harry’s hair? To smell his lush brown ringlets that he had spent hours fantasizing over the other day? Shit. He hopes he doesn’t get turned on from this. And how pathetic would that be?

“Uh,” Louis says, letting out a shaky laugh. “Okay.”

 _Damn it, Louis,_ he tells himself as he makes his way over to the fence. _You’re just sniffing a lad’s hair. It’s not like it’s your first time smelling someone’s hair. Hell, you had sex last month,_ he reminds himself. _But even that didn’t turn you on as much as Harry’s hair does, right?_

Careful not to bring his face too close to Harry’s hair, Louis takes a cautious sniff. “Mmm. Yep. Very lime-y.”

“What kind of smelling was that?” Harry says with an actual pout, as if Louis’ minimal effort of smelling his hair was offensive. “That was nothing.”

“You don’t know that,” Louis says defensively. “I sniffed very hard.”

“You’ve got to inhale it, Louis,” Harry insists, reaching out to take Louis’ head in his hands, and what the hell. Louis lets out a yelp as Harry pushes Louis’ nose into his hair, until Louis is all but surrounded by a soft hair pillow of a lime-scented Harry. Fuck.

“Oh,” Louis squeaks into Harry’s hair, flustered by the close proximity. His hair does indeed smell very good. Too good. Louis almost whimpers.

“See?” Harry lets go of Louis, satisfied.

“Yup.” Louis nods quickly. “Smells good, Harry,” he agrees, hoping that Harry can’t tell how his insides are practically jumping.

Harry beams at Louis. “It does, doesn’t it? Gemma got it for me.”

Louis’ heart unwillingly sinks. “Gemma?”

“My sister,” Harry says.

Relief floods Louis, his hopes soaring back up. “Right, your sister.”

“Yep! But she didn’t give it to me in person, unfortunately. She delivered it to me through Ashton. But honestly, I was so happy when I got it, I almost kissed him in front of everyone at the station.”

Louis blinks, his hopes about to plummet even lower. “Ashton.”

Harry nods. “Gemma’s boyfriend, who happened to be visiting last week. Shit, I’m doing it again, aren’t I,” he says, oblivious to Louis’ frenzied state. “I always talk about others as if everyone else already knows them, I do that about Niall, sometimes, and I do that about you –” Harry stops.

Louis warms inside, the previous roller coaster in his stomach disappearing completely. “You talk about me?” he asks, feeling very much like a thirteen-year old again.

“Um. I mean. Well,” Harry says, fidgeting. “Sometimes.”

“Oh,” Louis says. Harry talks about him. He’s helpless to stop his grin. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Harry says, an equally big smile appearing on his face.

“Harry!” A call comes from within Harry’s house, cutting off their conversation. Through the window, Louis can make out Niall’s waving figure. “When you’re done flirting with Louis, ask him if we can have a couple of tangerines!”

Harry’s face reddens, returning to his original state of rosy cheeks when Louis had first found him on the ground a week ago. “Fuck off, Niall,” Harry shouts back, Niall laughing as he fades off into the distance.

“See,” Louis says. “I knew that you just wanted to see me for my tangerines.”

“Not just your tangerines,” Harry grins, looking up at Louis from beneath his eyelashes. “I don't know you too well, but I like you for other things, too.” At this point, Louis is pretty sure that he has turned into a pile of goo.

“What else, then?” he prompts, trying to come off as casual.

“Well,” Harry begins, propping his head up on his hands. “I like how you’re standing on a footstool because you’re too short,” he starts, and Louis sputters.

“I’m not standing on a footstool,” Louis huffs, realizing right then that Harry is actually able to see the footstool through the cracks of the fence.

Ignoring Louis, Harry continues. “I like how you watch One Tree Hill. I like how you dance in your living room when you think no one is looking.”

Louis gapes. “What,” he says. “How do you -”

Harry laughs. “You need to close your blinds, mate.”

“Not my fault you’re a creeper,” Louis mumbles.

“Not my fault you’re an exhibitionist,” Harry sings, winking and catching Louis off-guard.

Louis blushes. “You’d like to know, wouldn't you?" God. This escalated quickly.

Harry shrugs, an impish grin still on his face. “If you give me more of your tangerines,” he says, as if that made sense.

“I gave you my last tangerine," Louis points out.

“Oh, right," Harry says, nodding. "It was very good.”

"I'm sorry I can't give you any more tangerines," Louis tells him. He really is sorry. Somehow, picturing Harry without his tangerine pastries to make him happy doesn't seem like something he'd want to see.

However, Harry doesn't seem too upset. "It's okay," Harry says, waving a hand. "I'm on an apple kick right now, anyway. They’re very a-peeling."

Louis rolls his eyes at the pun. "You are? Since when?"

"Uh, since two weeks ago," Harry says, shuffling his feet. A sudden thought strikes Louis.

"I have an apple tree," Louis blurts. "You can take some if you'd like."

An excited look sweeps over Harry's face. "Really?"

"Yeah," Louis nods. His inward promise to compensate Phoebe's tangerines with apples flies out his mental window. Agh. Maybe he has another tree in his yard somewhere with fruits to give to her.

"Are you sure, though? The shops are close by, I can easily buy apples there." A lock of hair falls over Harry's face, and Louis has an intense urge to tuck it behind his ear. _Help._

"Why would you go to the shops if you've got an apple tree so close to your house, already? It's no problem, really," Louis insists.

"I just feel bad taking fruit from you without giving you anything in return," Harry explains. "With Mrs. Darcy, I took care of her garden in exchange for tangerines."

"Alright, how about this," says Louis, leaning forward and propping his chin on his hands. "How about you make me something? Then after that, you can take as many apples as you want every week."

"Okay," Harry agrees, smile widening. "It's a deal."

\---

Louis finds Niall sitting outside his own house when he pulls into the driveway a few days later. "Oh, hey Louis," Niall greets him, playing with his shoelace.

"Hey Niall," Louis says, climbing out of his car. "Y'alright?"

"Peachy," Niall responds. "You?"

Louis gives him a nod. "Yeah, had a good day." After work, he had went for fish and chips with Liam, satisfying the craving he's held all week. Then he had went out and bought a new shirt that looked really good on him. So all in all, a decent day.

"Awesome," Niall says. He adjusts his hat, tapping his foot expectantly.

"So uh, are you locked out of your house or something?" Louis questions. It doesn’t seem like Niall is doing much besides sitting in front of his house.

"Nope," Niall says. "Just chilling. On the porch."

"Chilling on the porch," Louis repeats. "Alright, then."

"Yup." Suddenly, Niall widens his eyes, pointing at Louis' porch with extreme enthusiasm. "Wow! What's that, Louis?"

Turning around, Louis spies a package sitting on his doorstep. Coming closer, the package turns out to be a container. There's a note.

_Thanks for the apples. Here you go. xx_

Harry. Louis had given him a few apples yesterday, and Harry had already made the apple pie. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet.

A smile blooms on Louis' face, and he stands there grinning as he re-reads the note once more. Harry made him pie.

Louis turns his head, but Niall has already retreated inside.

\---

"I'm not kidding," Louis is telling Zayn. They're at the coffee shop where Liam works at, killing time as they wait for him to finish his shift. "It was the best apple pie ever. The ratio of cinnamon to apple was perfect."

"What do you know about cinnamon ratio?" Zayn says, bending a straw. "You can't even do math."

Louis shoots him a pointed look. "I can do math. I beat that stranger on the math trivia app game."

"That stranger was probably eight," Zayn says distractedly, his eyes flitting to Liam before looking back at Louis.

Louis swats Zayn's arm. "You're being obvious again," he whispers.

"Being obvious about what?" Zayn says, pretending to be oblivious as to whatever Louis' talking about.

"Why don't you just tell him you like him, mate," Louis says. "Tell him you want to order a hot cup of Liam."

"What does that even mean?" Zayn glares at him. "And I can't tell him, Lou," he groans, looking up at the ceiling.

"Yes, you can. He'll probably pepper little Liam kisses all over your face."

Zayn reddens, undoubtedly picturing Liam kissing his face. "He doesn't feel the same way."

Louis is pretty sure that Zayn is as oblivious to Liam's affections for him as Liam is with Zayn's. "Whatever. You look at him every ten seconds, anyway."

"No, I don't," Zayn mumbles. "Not as often as you talk about Harry and his apple pie from two days ago."

"It was a beautiful apple pie," Louis sighs wistfully. "He's beautiful, too."

"If he weren't cute," Zayn says, pointing at Louis with his straw, "you would hate him forever for stealing your tangerines."

"No, I wouldn't," Louis scoffs. "I'm a kind soul. I don't hate people."

"You threw a cup at a stranger last month for stepping on your foot."

"It was plastic. And he didn't even see that it was from me," Louis retorts. "In fact –" Louis' attention is quickly cut off by a figure entering the coffee shop. "Fuck, Zayn!"

"What?" Zayn tears his eyes away from Liam at Louis' urgency.

"Harry just entered the shop," Louis hisses, and Zayn's head immediately whips around. Louis slaps him. "Don't look!"

"Stop hitting me," Zayn says, scowling at Louis and turning back around. "What's the problem? You like the guy."

"I look like trash," Louis mumbles. "I'm wearing sweatpants instead of my good bum pants."

Zayn rolls his eyes at him. "You're sitting. He can't see your bum anyway." Oh. He has a point.

By now, Harry is already at the counter, tapping his foot thoughtfully while he orders a drink. How cute. Louis sighs, looking back at Zayn. "How's my hair? Should I say hi?"

"Your hair looks good, bro," Zayn tells him. "And it doesn't look like you have to," he says, smirking.

"What?" Louis furrows his eyebrows. "Why?"

He can hear footsteps approaching their table before a deep voice pipes up from behind. "Um, hi, Louis."

Louis' eyes widen before spinning around. Sure enough, it's Harry. "Harry!" Louis exclaims. "Hi.” He's vaguely aware of Zayn hiding a snort in his shirt.

Harry looks good today, clad in a brown flannel shirt and black skinny jeans. It seems like Harry doesn’t wear other pants except for extremely tight skinny jeans. Not that Louis is complaining.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks, trying to act composed despite the fact that he can feel Zayn's smug grin radiating across the table.

Harry shrugs, gesturing to the counter. “Just picking up a drink before heading to class. Niall said that the cinnamon gingerbread soy latte tastes really good, so I thought I’d try it out.”

The cinnamon gingerbread soy latte tastes like shit. Last week, Louis had spent ten minutes whining to Zayn about how blended dog food could taste better. But Louis doesn’t tell Harry that. Instead, he nods. “Yeah, you should try that out,” he says stupidly. Zayn definitely snorts this time.

“So, um,” Harry says nervously, casting a glance at Zayn. “I just wanted to say hi. Sorry if I’m… bothering you or anything. Like. If you’re on a date. Or something.”

Louis would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little glee at Harry’s unease at the prospect of interrupting him on a date. But then again, it's important to notify Harry that he is indeed single. Shaking his head, Louis waves his hand at Zayn. “Nope, not on a date. This is Zayn. Certified loser and heavily infatuated with our barista friend at the counter.”

“Louis,” Zayn hisses. “What the hell.”

Harry laughs, visible relief appearing on his face. “Oh, okay. For the record," he says to Zayn, "I think the barista may be interested too. He kept looking over at you when he was taking my order.”

Zayn's eyes widen, before quickly composing his face into something more neutral. “Oh. Cool,” he says in a nonchalant manner, but Louis isn't fooled.

“Thanks for the apple pie,” Louis says, wanting to keep Harry’s attention on him. “It was really good.”

Harry bites down a grin, a rosy bloom on his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“He loved it. Couldn’t stop talking about it,” Zayn chips in, earning a kick from Louis under the table. “Right, Louis?” Fuck Zayn.

However, Harry’s face lights up like a thousand watts. “Really?”

Running a hand through his hair, Louis laughs nervously. “Well, I can’t bake or cook for shit, so anything tastes great to me,” he says, realizing how shitty that sounds when Harry’s face falls a little.

“But your apple pie really did taste good. Better than my mum’s, even,” Louis rushes quickly, “but don’t tell her.” Louis is floundering. His mum doesn’t even bake apple pie.

“Oh,” Harry says, a smile tugging at his lips again. “Well, thank you.”

Just then, Harry’s phone rings, saving Louis from further potential embarrassment. “Niall’s here to pick me up,” Harry says, glancing at his phone. “I’ll see you around? Nice to meet you, Zayn.”

“Cheers.” Zayn holds up his cup.

“Bye,” Louis calls, relieved.

Once Harry passes through the door, Louis slumps on the table in defeat, hiding his head in his hands. “That was terrible," he groans. "I’m dying as we speak. I’m dead.”

“It could’ve been worse,” Zayn assures him, petting his hair in comfort. “You could have farted.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, peeking out from beneath his hands to send Zayn a glare. “You’re the best.”

Zayn flicks his straw at Louis, grinning. “Anytime,” he says. There’s another beat before Zayn says, “Harry seems really nice, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis fidgets. “He does.”

Zayn nods, looking at Louis knowingly. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Louis smiles, picking at a straw wrapper, and Zayn goes back to staring at Liam. They don’t say anything more about it.

\---

After that horrendous encounter, Louis is a bit surprised when he finds another container on his doorstep three days later. He lets out a squeal when the package itself reveals to be apple turnovers. From the corner of his eye, he thinks he can spot movement coming from Harry’s windows, but when he turns, he can only see closed curtains.

A note falls to the floor, catching Louis' attention. He laughs once he reads what's written on the note: _“Why did the melon marry? Because he cant-elope! xx”._ Giggling, he heads inside.

Even though his drawing skills are limited, Louis attempts to draw a melon and a cantaloupe at an altar. He sticks it on Harry's door once he’s done, knocking before ducking behind a bush. When Harry comes out, Louis watches as Harry beams, letting out a giggle, and Louis can feel a warmth tingling down to his toes.

It becomes a regular thing. Caramel apple eclairs are waiting on his porch a week later, and the week after that, it’s glazed apple cookies. Everytime, they're left with another punny fruit joke, and everytime, Louis can't help but smile. It's cute. Harry's cute.

Between the weekly gifts, Louis gets to see Harry a few times. Unfortunately, their conversations are usually short, as Louis has learned that Harry is taking summer classes and is in the middle of exam season.

Their usual encounters occur over the fence. Because of this, Louis has started to spend more time outside.

Today, he's on the grass tapping away on his phone when Harry runs out.

“Louis!” Harry cries, his hair flopping as he skips toward Louis. “Guess what!”

A happy Harry is a delightful sight to see, thinks Louis as he makes his way to their fence. “What?”

“I finished my last exam today,” Harry exclaims. “I’m a free man!”

“Yes!” Louis shouts. He knows how stressed Harry had been over his exams, and for Harry's sake, he's glad they're over.

“We should celebrate,” Harry suggests. "You and me."

Louis’ breath hitches in his throat. Is Harry finally asking him out? “Okay,” Louis agrees. “What do you want to do?”

“You should come over and make fruit smoothies with me,” Harry says, his excitement visibly showing. “We can make fruit smoothies together.”

Fruit smoothies. Does that still count as a date? Louis sends Harry a questionable look. “Is that your way of celebrating?”

Harry shrugs. “Fruit smoothies are great. For the past two weeks, all I’ve been eating is junk food while studying. I need to cleanse myself.”

Louis definitely does not need to think about Harry cleansing himself. “Okay, fruit smoothies,” he agrees. That could sound like fun. “And how old are we?”

“However old we want to be," Harry says, spreading his arms out. "Everyone loves a good smoothie day. There are no age limits on fruit smoothies, Lou.”

As long as Harry’s inviting him over, Louis can’t say no. Plus, Harry’s endearing enthusiasm is contagious. “Alright, Haz! Fruit smoothies it is.”

Harry brightens at the nickname. “Great! Come over tomorrow.”

\---

Louis ends up being busy for the entirety of the next day. So they schedule Smoothie Day for Wednesday, two days later.

On Tuesday afternoon, Louis realizes that he doesn’t really know what kinds of fruit that smoothies require. So he calls his mum.

“Hey mum,” Louis says when the phone picks up after two rings.

“Louis! Is that you, love?” The shrill sound of his baby brother’s screams is audible in the background.

“Yeah, it’s me. I was wondering -” He's immediately cut off by a crash on the other line.

“Sorry love, Ernie just made a spill on the rug,” Louis’ mum says, panic clear in her voice. “I’ve got to take care of this really quick, and then I’ll get back to you. You can talk to Lottie.” The sound through the phone rustles, and it's quickly passed to another person before Louis even has a chance to respond.

“Hey brother,” a voice chirps in his ear.

“Hey Lotts,” he says, smiling. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m well,” she says. “You? When do we get to visit your new house!"

"Soon," Louis promises. He just needs to tidy up a bit first. And by a bit, he means a lot.

"So," Lottie says. "Did you need something?”

Although he is glad to hear his sister’s voice, Louis is quite sure that talking to Lottie about this smoothie situation would end up badly. But he’s desperate.

“Er,” he starts slowly. “Well. I just wanted to know, what kinds of fruit should I put in a smoothie?”

There’s a silence on the other end before Lottie responds. “What?”

“I said, what kind of -”

“No, I heard you,” his sister says, starting to laugh. “I just can’t believe you want to make a fruit smoothie. And that you’re calling mum instead of googling it, no less.”

Google. Why didn’t Louis think of that? He hits himself mentally. This would have saved him a lot more stress than having to end up to talk to his sister about it.

“Right, Google. Thanks, Lotts! I forgot. Well, I’m off then –”

“Wait,” Lottie interrupts, suspicion creeping into her voice. “You never do things you hate unless you have a motivation for it. What is this for?”

Louis huffs. “I’ve just been enjoying fruit lately. It’s not that big of a deal. We all eat fruit. Animals eat fruit.”

“Yeah, but you could just easily buy a smoothie," Lottie says, unfazed. "You don’t even have a smoothie blender.” His sister clearly isn’t having it.

“What if I had just gotten one?” Louis counters.

“Then you would have said so from the beginning. Is this for a boy?” Lottie says, cutting to the chase.

“I’m going to go now,” Louis says. “I’m going to hang up the phone.”

“I knew it! Louis!” Lottie shrieks. “You’ve got to tell me about him! Is he hot? Does he have a big –”

Louis ends the call before she can go on any further. Opening up his laptop, he pulls up Google. _What kinds of fruits do you put in smoothies?_

A few seconds later, he receives a text.

_I hate u. I hope u choke when u try to deep-throat a banana in front of him. <3_

Louis chuckles. Another message comes through.

_also, strawberries are great for smoothies. boys love strawberriessss_

**Thanks, Lottie ! And don’t worry, boys love it when I choke ;)**

_gross!!!! tmi_

Cackling, Louis picks up his jacket and heads toward the door. He's got fruit to buy.

\---

At 2pm on Wednesday, Louis arrives at Harry's with a box of fruit tucked under this arm and his heart beating at an unsteady pace. Making fruit smoothies isn't a big deal. It's just blending fruit, for God's sake.

"Coming!" A voice echoes from within the house, and the door flings open, revealing a sweaty Harry.

Fuck. Harry is wearing yoga pants. _Yoga pants._ Louis might faint.

"Sorry," Harry says, wiping sweat from his brow. "I was just doing some pilates. Come in!"

"Okay," Louis says, hoping that his voice doesn't squeak, and steps into Harry’s house. "I, um. I bought some fruit. You know. Just in case," he adds, suddenly feeling dumb. Was bringing fruit even necessary? Harry probably already has fruit. What kind of yoga-loving person doesn't have fruit? Damn it.

Instead, Harry’s face lights up as if Louis bringing fruit was the greatest thing since electricity. “Oh, that’s great! What did you bring?”

Louis blinks. “Uh. Strawberries.”

“I love strawberries,” Harry gushes. Louis breathes out a sigh of relief.

For the next half hour, Harry teaches Louis how to make fruit smoothies. To Louis’ surprise, it’s more fun than he expected. Or maybe that’s because Harry hasn’t been able to stop finding some way of physical contact with Louis.

Right now, Harry is showing Louis how to peel an apple efficiently. Under normal circumstances, Louis would be embarrassed at his lack of apple-peeling skills. But with Harry so close, he doesn’t think he quite minds it.

“Pay attention to the wrist,” Harry is saying. Louis is trying to think about anything but the fact that half of Harry's body is pressed against his own. “It’s important how you’re holding it," Harry tells him. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever received such important advice in his life.

“Okay,” Louis breathes. “Like this?” He peels off a neat strip, looking up at Harry expectantly for approval.

“Exactly,” Harry says, satisfied, and goes off to fetch the bananas. Louis is disappointed at the loss of Harry’s body heat. Maybe he should have continued to be shit at peeling apples, so Harry would wrap his arms around him and they could peel it together. Like bowling.

“Hey, Lou.” Harry's suddenly standing next to a speaker. Smirking, he holds up a turnip. “Lettuce turnip the beat!” Immediately, Nicki Minaj’s voice blasts through the room, and Louis laughs, endeared.

“Vegetable puns!” he yells over the noise.

“Vegetable puns,” Harry shouts back, doing a little jig.

In the end, the smoothies are quite good. They end up on Harry’s couch, sipping through purple straws as they flip through Netflix selections. Louis tries to ignore how Harry’s leg is right on top of his.

Niall ambles downstairs as Harry is in the middle of trying to convince Louis to pick Friends With Benefits, much to Louis' dismay. (“But Justin Timberlake, Louis,” Harry had pleaded, nuzzling up to Louis and causing his breathing to stutter. “He’s just so fit!”)

“Oooh, are those smoothies?” Niall asks, strolling to the counter. “Don’t mind if I do!”

Picking up a glass, he nods in approval. "Strawberry banana orange mango," he says, taking a sip. How he got that from just looking at the glass, Louis doesn't understand.

“Are you joining us, Niall?” Louis asks as Niall proceeds to chug the whole thing before letting out a loud burp.

Niall casts a glance at Harry, who Louis notices is not-so-subtly making gestures at him. “Um, not tonight. I’ve got stuff to do,” he says. “Sorry.”

Louis nods. “Summer classes like Harry?”

“Sure.” Niall scratches his neck. “Summer classes!”

“Niall’s taking pottery,” Harry fills in quickly. “He’s… busy. With... homework.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “He’s got… pottery homework.”

“Pottery homework,” Niall confirms, spinning on his heel. “I’m off now. Bye!” And with that, he’s gone.

Louis turns to Harry. “Pottery homework,” he repeats.

“Oh hey,” Harry says quickly, grabbing the remote and ignoring Louis. “Let’s watch this.” He jabs aimlessly at a button, and a dolphin documentary begins to play.

Louis can feel the heat rising from Harry’s face even if he’s not looking at him, and he tries not to laugh as he inches closer to Harry. “Dolphin documentary, huh?” Louis says, smirking.

“Yup,” Harry responds, a strained tone to his voice.

“Alright.” Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Can’t say that this is too exciting, though.”

“Dolphins can be very exciting,” Harry mumbles, his cheeks now visibly red.

“Hey.” Louis pokes at his side, an attempt to loosen him up. “Wanna avo-cuddle with me?”

At Louis' joke, the corner of Harry's mouth twitches. He looks at Louis’ earnest expression, beginning to relaxing under his touch. “Okay,” he says, a smile forming on his face. Louis lifts his arm, and Harry settles into it happily.

The next five minutes are spent actually watching the damn dolphin documentary. Since it had been an accidental choice, Louis had expected Harry to change the film, but it seems like Harry is captured by watching the dolphins jumping on the screen. Louis is captured by watching Harry.

 _“Dolphins often display a playful attitude which makes them popular in human culture,”_ the narrator says on the screen. _“They can be seen jumping out of the water, riding waves, play fighting…”_

Even though Louis has no interest in dolphins, he can't help but smile as he holds Harry a little closer. It doesn't matter what movie they could be watching; Louis is happy like this. Happy with Harry, happy with Harry's fruit puns, happy with how genuinely nice he's been to Louis since day one.

“Hey,” Louis whispers suddenly, nudging Harry.

“Hey,” Harry replies, nudging Louis back jokingly.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Louis says. “Like… actually. You’ve been a really great neighbour so far, you know that?”

Harry looks down with a smile, his cheeks colouring. “Thanks,” he says. “You too. I, um,” Harry says suddenly, pausing the documentary. “I actually made something for you.”

“What?" Louis is surprised. "You did? On top of all the weekly pastries? You didn’t have to.”

“Just wait,” Harry says, lifting himself off the couch. Returning a few seconds later, he presents a small booklet to Louis. _Fruit Puns for Louis!_ , it reads in big block letters. Surprised, Louis looks up at Harry, who now looks unsure.

“I always tell you fruit puns, so I thought like, it’d be cool to make you a booklet of fruit puns,” Harry says, biting his lip nervously. “I mean, like, I know it’s dumb. But I just thought you might like it, and I was bored, and it’s okay if you don’t like it, it’s lame anyway, and -”

“Harry.” Louis cuts him off before the boy busts a nervous vein. His heart is beating, solid, steady thumps in his chest out of affection for this curly-headed boy. “I love it.”

Harry looks at him, eyes big. “You do? But -” And Louis surges forward boldly, cutting him off with a kiss.

Harry squeaks, falling further into the couch as Louis presses his lips against his, soft but insistent. His heart is hammering against his ribcage as Harry melts into the kiss, moving his lips in tandem. Louis can feel him smile against his mouth.

They pull apart, faces pink as they breathe in each other’s spaces. “I do,” Louis whispers, lacing his fingers with Harry’s, and Harry’s face blooms into another grin.

“I’m glad,” Harry says, after Louis presses another peck to his lips.

“I like being with you, you know,” Louis whispers, suddenly shy, and ducks his head.

Harry’s eyes sparkle, and he pulls Louis into his side, tucking his head into his neck. “Me too,” he says. “A lot, I think.”

“You do?” Louis pulls away to look at Harry, surprised.

“Yes,” Harry says, as if it should be obvious. “Of course I do, Louis. I’ve been leaving you pastries for weeks. I even got Niall to spy on you that one time. I made a bloody fruit pun book. I told you I was on an 'apple kick' so I could keep seeing you. Not that I don't like apples,” he adds.

“Oh,” Louis says dumbly. “I mean, of course,” he continues. “I just… Didn’t expect it.”

Harry hooks his foot around Louis’ ankle. “Didn’t expect what?”

“Didn’t expect you,” Louis says, and at that moment, he’s realizing how true it is. “Didn’t expect someone as wonderful as you,” he mumbles. To his surprise, he doesn't even cringe at how cheesy the statement is.

Harry leans in, looking intently into Louis’ eyes. “You’re wonderful,” he insists. “You’re hilarious and charming and you let me take your fruit. Your bum is out of this world. Your smile alone can end winters. You –”

“Stop being gross, Harry,” echoes an Irish accent from upstairs. “I’m sure he gets it.”

“Stop eavesdropping, you bloody leprechaun!” Harry shouts back, flustered.

“Harry writes poetry about your eyes! He’s been wanting to tell you for weeks!” Niall calls back as Harry squeaks in embarrassment, and a door shuts.

By this point, Louis has turned into a pleasant shade of red. “You write poetry about my eyes?” Damn. He’s never had anyone write poetry about him before.

“They’re like an ocean,” Harry mumbles, his face buried into a pillow. “A nice ocean.”

Louis breaks into a smile. It’s funny, at how if this were to be anyone else, he’d probably cringe. But it’s Harry. Harry, the genuine, sweet boy who takes his oranges. Harry, the beautiful, funny boy who writes him fruit puns.

“Hey, love,” he coaxes, rubbing Harry’s back. “It’s cute. I love it.”

“You do?” Harry says, peeking an eye out.

Louis nods, smiling. “Yeah,” he assures him. “It’s just something I’m not used to. All the guys I’ve ever been with are kind of trash,” he admits softly.

Trash. It’s a perfect word to describe every boy Louis has ever encountered romantically, and it's something that he’d prefer to blot out of his mind.

But, Louis thinks, Harry is different. Harry... Harry’s not like any other man Louis has been with.

As if to prove Louis’ point, he sits up and gathers Louis’ hands together, placing them on his lap. “You deserve the opposite of trash,” he whispers. “And I’m sorry for those who have been terrible to you. _They’re_ trash, Louis. And I don’t want to treat you like that,” Harry says, looking at Louis earnestly.

At this point, Louis is speechless, unsure of how to take Harry’s honesty. It’s true, he realizes. For the past few weeks, everything that Harry has done had been done with good intentions. Craig never made him pastries. Josh never gave him a fruit pun book. He didn’t even give Louis good head.

“Well,” Louis ends up saying through a smile. “I mean, I… If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Harry grins, playing with Louis’ fingers. “You’re one in a melon. You deserve great things. You deserve fruit pies.”

“Well, that’s something you’ve already taken care of,” Louis giggles. He’s been smiling too much. His face feels like it’s about to split in half.

“Of course,” Harry says, leaning in again to kiss away Louis’ smile. “All the fruit pies.”

\---

"Who's the one allergic to peaches again?" They're in Louis' kitchen three weeks later, surrounded by a plethora of pies. The sharp, tangy aroma of tangerines mixed with the softer scent of apple take up the entire room, slowly seeping into other areas of the house.

Ah, Louis' house. It's a lot cleaner now, thanks to Harry. Not only is Harry an expert at baking, but he's also very efficient in cleaning and organizing. They had spent the entirety of last weekend sorting through the last of Louis' boxes and sweeping through the entire house, in addition to a lot of impromptu singing and dancing with brooms. The day had ended with collapsing onto Louis' couch in exhaustion, and Louis thanking Harry with a blow job. The day after, he had called up his sisters to invite them over to his newly cleaned house.

“Daisy's allergic to peaches," Louis tells Harry. "But she'll just eat the other pies, babe. Don't worry."

"Okay," Harry says, but the crease in his forehead remains. "Can you count again how many slices you cut?"

"Stop fretting,” Louis reassures Harry. “Who cares if not everyone gets five slices each? Four slices is enough.” He only receives a grumble in reply.

“Your sisters are growing girls,” Harry insists, his eyes scanning the pies on the counter. “They all need five slices.”

Smiling at Harry’s nervous persistence, Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist from behind. “They’re not each going to finish five slices, love. It’s a lot. Leave them all for Niall.”

Sighing, Harry turns around to face Louis, reciprocating the embrace. “I know,” he says. “Niall would probably eat them all too. I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

“For what? They’re just my sisters,” Louis says, rubbing his back in reassurance. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“But,” Harry starts, pulling back slightly, his eyebrows knitting together. “What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m smelly? What if Phoebe is mad at me because I’m the reason why she didn’t get tangerines anymore?”

Harry's anxious desire in wanting Louis' sisters to like him is a little endearing. “I like you,” Louis smiles. “And you are smelly. You smell like Lime Time. Which is a good smell,” he says, taking a long, exaggerated whiff, and Harry cracks a smile. “And Phoebe won’t be mad once she tastes your pies. They’re good pies. The. Best. Pies.” He emphasizes each word with a peck on Harry’s nose.

“Okay,” Harry says, looking a little relieved. “Okay.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and Harry’s eyes widen immediately.

“I’ll get the door,” Louis tells him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Stay here. And everything will be fine.”

He rushes to the door, swinging it open. At once, he’s met with the sight of all his sisters, minus his baby sister Doris, bouncing on his porch. “Girls!” he exclaims, and he’s immediately bombarded with excited hugs and kisses. He accepts each greeting with joy, delighted to see all his sisters again. It’s been too long.

"Nice house," Fizzy says. She peers at the floor. "Is that an old pizza stain?"

Damn. Him and Harry must have missed that spot.

"There's nothing wrong with old pizza," Louis says. "It could be worse. It could be dog poop."

"You don't own a dog," she retorts jokingly, and Louis jabs at her side affectionately. He's missed joking around with her.

“Harry’s a little nervous,” Louis whispers to them while they’re all taking their shoes off. “So… Be nice? Please?”

“Of course we’ll be nice, Louis,” Phoebe says, rolling her eyes. “Who do you think we are? Terrible people? Plus, you said he’d be making us pies.”

“Pies?” Daisy perks up, her eyes wandering. “Where?”

“In the kitchen,” Louis answers, and at Louis’ response, they flee all at once. He can hear their cries of "Hello!" as they enter the kitchen, and Harry's equally excited "Hi!". Lottie’s the only one who stays behind.

“Hey,” she says, and Louis turns around to see his sister smiling at him. “Hey.”

“I’m really happy for you,” is all she says, and Louis smiles at the ground.

“I’m happy too.”

\---

An hour later, they’re all settled in front of the TV with Netflix, bellies full and smiles stretching across their faces. Louis is glad; all of Harry’s worries had been in vain. Once his sisters had spotted the pies, their faces lit up, and they proceeded to actually eat about five slices each, all while engaging Harry in conversation at the same time. It delighted Louis to see how effortlessly Harry interacted with his sisters, how quickly he blended in, teasing Fizzy about her crush or allowing Phoebe to braid his hair. He's with everyone he loves best. He hasn’t been able to stop smiling this whole afternoon.

“So, Louis,” Lottie turns to Louis, smirking. “I hope sacrificing Tall Tangerine Terrence had been worth it.”

“Oh god,” Louis says, bringing a hand to his face. He had made the mistake of telling Lottie about Tall Tangerine Terrence the day after Smoothie Date, when he had called up Lottie excitedly and she had demanded to know the whole story. ("He made you a book on fruit puns?" Lottie had exclaimed. "Who even is this guy?")

“What the fuck is Tall Tangerine Terrence,” Harry whispers, soft enough for the young twins to not hear, but loud enough for Lottie to keep up with the conversation.

“Louis has been cheating on you,” Lottie says, smirking. “With a tangerine.”

Harry turns his head to look at Louis, amused. “Really.”

“Yes,” Louis says. “He’s a much better boyfriend than you are.”

“Is that so?” Harry says, his eyebrows raised.

“Yep,” Louis says, pinching Harry's cheek. “Brings me gifts and everything. Remembers to tuck me in every night at nine.”

“But,” Harry says, grazing his lips near Louis’ ear, “is he able to please you the way I can?”

Louis’ breath stutters. “Um.”

A cushion smacks Louis in the face, knocking them both apart. “Stop,” Lottie declares, diverting Louis' sisters’ attention from the screen to them. “None of that here.”

“Are we having a pillow fight?” Daisy exclaims. “I love those.”

Louis throws a cushion at her in response, and a full-on fight begins to break out, Harry leaping out of his seat to remove any valuables in the way.

“For the record,” Louis whispers to Harry later, when they’re all strewn out on Harry’s carpet breathless, with countless cushions laying around. “No one has been able to make me happy the way you can.”

Harry’s lips curve upward, and he tangles his fingers with Louis’ contently. “I’m berry glad.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! this is my first work posted up, so kudos would be nice :D or comments, to let me know what you think!
> 
> if you enjoyed this fic, reblog the post [here](http://nauticalleeds.tumblr.com/post/135164313680/orange-you-glad-i-stole-your-heart-by) :)


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